


Beauty Trilogy

by fortunata13



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunata13/pseuds/fortunata13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during the latter half of season two. Cara's ever expanding role now includes fixing things –– namely Kahlan's feelings. Short and sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back but forgot to post it here. If you read my LJ, this will not be new to you.

The life of a Mord’Sith is a simple one: serve and protect the Lord Rahl, take what you want, when you want it. There are things in this world that, to a Mord’Sith, are of no consequence. The saffron color of the sky as the sun makes its descent behind the horizon, for example, is not a thing with which a Mord’Sith concerns herself. Equally irrelevant is the whistling sound of the wind as it sweeps up leaves from the forest floor on an autumn night. Birds chirping in the early morning are an annoyance, no doubt, and not something to be dwelled upon.

Yet, these days, matters of this nature seem to inform Cara’s every decision. In considering a suitable path toward their next destination, she insists they take a road that leads to a ravine fed by cascading waterfalls, and lined on either side by tall trees that form a canopy over the narrow waterway.

“Spirits, it’s so beautiful,” the Mother Confessor declares, with a smile so radiant that the sun shining high above them instantly becomes an afterthought. Cara doesn’t say anything, she simply watches.

The Seeker points out various plant species and goes on about all the beautiful things he will show her when he takes her back to the Westlands. It’s an ideal place to raise a family, he’s told her countless times, but Cara thinks maybe it isn’t, because the Mother Confessor’s smile disappears every time he mentions it.

It has something to do with feelings, Cara is sure of it. The reason is irrelevant, of course, she still has to fix it. She finds herself having to do that more and more –– fixing Kahlan’s feelings. Richard knows much more about these things than she does, but sometimes he gets it all wrong. Cara suspects it is because Richard doesn’t understand what it is to be a Confessor, any more than he understands what it is to be Mord’Sith, or even Lord Rahl for that matter.

“Confessor,” she whispers to Kahlan, later that night. “Wake up.”

Kahlan makes little noises and squirms in a way that Cara is certain Richard would find adorable. He would probably tell her that she’s beautiful like that, with her hair tussled and her cheeks colored by the cool night air.

“What is it? Is it my turn to take watch?” She’s rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, much like a child would do. Cara knows she should answer the Confessor’s questions but she thinks maybe something is stuck in her throat, because words won’t come out.

“Fine, I’ll get up,” Kahlan says begrudgingly. Cara helps her put her boots on then practically drags her through some bushes until they are well beyond the trees.

“Look,” Cara says, pointing toward the sky.

The Confessor’s lips part and her eyes are wide with wonder. “A meteor shower,” she finally says. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Cara is Mord’Sith, and her reflexes are easily twice as fast as those of lesser beings, but Kahlan’s assault on her was completely unexpected. Not knowing what to do, she stands there, practically catatonic, with Kahlan’s arms wrapped around her for what seems like an eternity, but at the same time, much too short.

When Kahlan finally releases her, they sit side by side, mesmerized by the beautiful sight before them. Well, except that it is a different sight, since Kahlan is looking up at the sky while Cara is looking over at Kahlan. Still, they have identical expressions on their faces. It appears to be a mixture of awe and wonder with a hint of something else that is best left unnamed. For what remains of the night, they stay there, watching, as millions of luminous celestial bodies collide into each other almost as if all of Creation has conspired to bring about their unlikely meeting.

Cara notices that Kahlan is shivering so she has no choice but to slide behind her and firmly wrap her arms around the Confessor, who, without hesitation, allows all of her weight to rest against the front of Cara’s body. To an onlooker it would bear a suspicious resemblance to snuggling, but it isn’t, of course. Cara is Mord’Sith, and Mord’Sith certainly do not snuggle. No, not ever.

Clearly, her Lord would be very upset if she were to return the Mother Confessor to camp in less than perfect health. In an effort to do just that, she pulls Kahlan closer still and runs her hands vigorously up and down Kahlan’s arms before tightening her grip again. Kahlan makes a sound that could easily be mistaken for a purr but it isn’t of course, because certainly, the Mother Confessor of the Midlands would never make such an undignified sound.

Cara soon finds herself with a sleeping Confessor curled in her lap. Her head is resting in the crook of Cara’s neck in such a way that Cara can feel each of Kahlan’s exhalations on her cheek. It must be something about the position that she’s in that’s causing the strange sensation in Cara’s chest, as well as the lump in her throat. Still, she stays that way until the Confessor stirs in her arms, just as the sun turns the sky a pale shade of blue that Cara decides it stole from Kahlan’s eyes.

“Good morning,” Kahlan says, in that way that isn’t a purr this time either. She also seems to mistake Cara for the Lord Rahl because she’s rubbing the tip of her nose into the spot behind Cara’s earlobe and pressing her lips against her neck. “Mm, you smell really good, Cara.”

Cara’s lips are curling into something that most certainly isn’t a smile, and that look on her face, it isn’t contentment either. She knows she should probably take Kahlan back before the others wake up but it must be stiff muscles that are making it impossible for her to move. She has no choice then, but to stay perfectly still with the Confessor in her arms, still making that sound that is definitely not purring.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been a while since Kahlan has watched over the others this way. Of late, Richard and Cara both find some excuse or another for taking her watch. Cara started the trend but Richard soon followed suit. It’s one of the many ways in which they compete with each other. Still, after last night’s meteor shower she felt compelled to take in more of the beauty of the night sky.

As much as she loves the extra rest, she’s missed doing this, watching them sleep. Even in deep slumber, Richard has a grin on his face. Kahlan thinks that perhaps it’s because from the moment he was born, he was wrapped in a blanket of kindness, and bathed in unconditional love. So often she’s riddled with guilt at having pulled him away from a life he loved. It was his destiny, of course, but having had a hand in it, haunts her still.

The wizard’s snores break her from her reverie, and she has to cover her mouth to muffle her laughter. Zedd could sleep and eat his way through the most dire of circumstances. His presence is a tremendous source of comfort for Kahlan. The old man is as sharp as he is wise and many times it is he who manages to lift their spirits with his silly antics. So much so that it is impossible to keep from joining in his mirth. It is an ability that Kahlan is certain has come about due to having lived, and loved, and lost many times over.

And then there is Cara, a walking contradiction, a friend, an enemy, a fierce protector, and so much more. Cara, who was willing to plunge a dagger into her own chest so that Kahlan could have a chance at life. Curled up into a tiny ball on her bedroll, Kahlan sees her as a child, a beautiful little girl with hopes and dreams, and so much love to give. Who would she have been, this Mord’Sith who would willingly give up her life for any one of them? It’s a question that Kahlan has asked herself a thousand times over.

There is, however, a part of her that doesn’t want to know, a part that can’t bear the thought of a Cara that isn’t exactly as she is now. Kahlan doesn’t know how or when it happened, but somehow Cara has become a part of her. Not having Cara by her side is as unsettling as a world with no sky or perhaps a house without floors. Just the thought of it feels as if she were falling into an endless abyss. Cara would deny it, of course, but they both know it’s mutual. It’s been a long time since either of them sought out Richard when their eyes open at sunrise. No, those days are gone.

Richard, who is as easy to love as a summer breeze, stands in stark contrast to the enigma that is Cara. Yet, she’s cut through Kahlan’s dreams like a knife, opening up a world that bleeds possibilities. Possibilities that are, in truth, impossibilities. Only on days like the one that just passed, she forgets. How can she not when Cara’s arms are wrapped around her, when she looks at her with so much raw emotion that it hurts to meet her gaze? No, it’s impossible to not forget, to not allow herself to drift into a world in which a Mord’Sith and Confessor being something other than enemies isn’t an oxymoron.

Caught in a storm of thoughts for a moment, she looks over and there is Cara, tucked safely in her bedroll. The ebb and flow of her breath, mirrored in the rise and fall of her chest, is somehow reassuring to Kahlan, calming even. Except that looking at Cara lately elicits certain physical responses that, for years, she’s managed to keep at bay. Responses that, for as much as she loves Richard, exist in an entirely different stratosphere than anything he ever inspired in her.

Cara is beautiful, of course, but it is much more than her beauty that is at play here. It’s how she moves, and the things that she says, and the way her gaze rakes over Kahlan’s bosom when she thinks Kahlan is distracted. It’s those lips and those hungry eyes and the pleasure and passion they promise. But most of all, it’s Cara’s hands, which Kahlan has only seen ungloved on rare occasions. So delicate and elegant, flawless skin that is as soft as anything, those hands are a masterpiece and, in her most intimate moments, those are the hands that take Kahlan to unimaginable heights when she closes her eyes. It isn’t Richard she sees anymore, and even when it was, it was never like this, never like Cara.

Kahlan can’t help but wonder for how much longer they will continue to bandy innuendoes, and exchange glances and subtle touches before it all reaches critical mass. Kahlan isn’t one for denial. What she and Cara are doing is nothing other than foreplay and wooing, and toying with the possibility that they might misbehave. But at the end of the day, they are on a quest to save the world. Kahlan hasn’t forgotten nor will she. In the meantime, Cara will continue to silently bend the world to her will so that Kahlan always has a smile on her face and, for her part, Kahlan will allow herself to feel alive for a change, to be as much a woman as she is a Confessor.

Richard is the Seeker of Truth so he sees but, in this case, chooses to not see. Instead, he’s standing by his boundless optimism, negating the possibility of anything other than a happy ending in which he and Kahlan are figurines atop a wedding cake. Sometimes Kahlan watches as he tries to out-Cara Cara and it amuses her but it also frightens her and fills her with guilt. She has not lied to Richard and she has not made promises that she can’t keep. The truth is that Richard was the first person to look upon her without fear and she loves him for it, but now she’s feeling things that are a far cry from her girlish romantic fantasies, and she’s feeling those things for someone who isn’t Richard. She’d like to give them a name such as lust or desire that would render these feelings harmless –– Kahlan is a Confessor and as such, turning away from the pull of the flesh is easy. But Kahlan is a Confessor and as such, turning away from the truth is impossible.

The sun is coming up so for now, she’ll allow herself to walk over to Cara’s bedroll and crouch down so that she can press her lips to the shell of Cara’s ear –– lingering there for much longer than necessary –– then whispering her name until her eyes flutter open, and she’ll smile a smile that belongs exclusively to Cara, who’ll look up and see that smile and it will serve as evidence that this is a good day. There will, however, come a day when this won’t be enough, and it will come sooner rather than later. They both know it but on this day, it will remain unsaid.


	3. Chapter 3

“No,” Kahlan says emphatically, in that tone that makes everyone quake in their boots. Everyone except Cara, that is.

“I’m fine, let’s go.” The Mother Confessor seems to be under the impression that Mord’Sith fall ill. It’s a ridiculous notion, of course. The fever and the coughing are nothing more than her body telling her that she’s in need of a good fight.

“Cara, I said no. We are staying here until you are well enough to continue.” Kahlan would have relented just to avoid the scornful look in Cara’s eyes but she’s had this fever for several days, and without the wizard to heal her, the situation calls for both caution and rest.

“Maybe you’re the one feeling ill. I’ll go on but you can stay behind and rest, if you’d like.” Confessors are pigheaded creatures who need to be dealt with sternly. That she would ever leave Kahlan is obviously ridiculous but it’s a solid bluff.

“If it were me who were ill, would we continue?”

“Of course not, are you insane?” Cara blurts out, realizing a little too late that she’s walked into a classic underhanded Confessor trap.

“We are staying,” Kahlan says, dragging her into the inn. Cara has several very valid arguments to put forth –– two of them being her agiels –– but after that low blow, she isn’t speaking to Kahlan. Ever.

Having made all of the arrangements, she gives Cara her most gentle and loving look ––batting her lashes for good measure –– and runs her hand down Cara’s arm. More Confessor underhandedness, Cara thinks to herself. “You and I take care of each other, Cara. That’s just the way it is, I’m sorry that it bothers you so much, but I don’t think it will ever change, or at least I hope it doesn’t.” She waits for a moment, hoping that Cara will acknowledge her somehow but, predictably, she doesn’t. “I requested that the innkeeper arrange for a hot bath and a meal to be brought up.” With that, she walks out of the room leaving Cara to work out her frustration alone.

A half a candlemark later she returns to find Cara lying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. She places her hand on Cara’s forehead and finds that it feels hot to the touch but she doesn’t mention it. “Are you still not talking to me?” she asks, lying alongside her.

“Yes, I mean no. You know what I mean,” Cara mumbles in reply.

Kahlan absentmindedly lifts one of Cara’s hands off the bed and removes her glove. Cara watches as Kahlan studies her hand intently, stroking it and gently squeezing it before finally pressing it to her own cheek.

“Mother Confessor, is there something wrong with my hand?” Cara asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Wrong? No, there’s nothing wrong with it at all. I…like it. It’s beautiful,” she says, continuing to take in every detail of it.

Cara props herself up on an elbow with a smirk on her face. “There are many beautiful things that I like,” she says, veering her gaze down to Kahlan’s neckline. “Does that mean that I get to touch them?” Her intention is to make Kahlan blush but she immediately experiences a coughing fit that leaves the Confessor visibly concerned. Just then, two maids enter the room to ready the bath.

Before Cara can utter a word in protest, Kahlan starts working away at the laces of her leather. Cara allows it because she knows it will ease Kahlan’s mind. Confessors are like that, they need to feel useful. Cara can feel Kahlan’s hot breath on the back of her neck which will probably raise her temperature even further but it isn’t at all unpleasant. She can also feel the ghost of Kahlan’s fingers caressing her hand which reverberates over her entire body. Kahlan doesn’t seem to realize how such things affect a red-blooded Mord’Sith such as Cara. While arrangements were made for a hot bath, what she really needs is a cold shower. Except that a cold shower won’t help with that thing she feels in her chest every time Kahlan looks at her or smiles at her or talks to her or does anything at all. It must have something to do with Kahlan’s Confessor magic because no one else has ever made her feel that way.

Once the laces are loosened, Kahlan turns away so that Cara can take off her leathers and get into the tub. She doesn’t do it for the sake of Cara’s modesty but rather her own sanity. After allowing herself to indulge in the luxury of one of Cara’s delectable hands, her head is already spinning and things that are impossible between them seem well within her reach. When Cara made that remark about touching things that she likes, Kahlan wanted nothing more than to allow herself to be touched. Her whole life she’s pushed desire to the back of her mind, but with Cara it’s desire coupled with something altogether deeper. On days like this, when it’s just the two of them, she thinks that perhaps she could allow herself a taste, but she knows that once she drinks from Cara’s cup, she’ll go back for more again and again, and she’ll keep going back because even too much will never be enough.

Taking in the deepest of breaths, she walks into the bath chamber where Cara lies with hooded eyes, and Kahlan curses buoyancy for lifting Cara’s pert peaks just above the water. “Confessor, can I help you?” Cara asks, without opening her eyes. She feels Kahlan’s presence a thousand times more strongly than she does the bond to the Lord Rahl, she has for months now.

“The water is getting too cold for you, and the maid will bring up our meal soon.” Cara stands up and Kahlan allows herself a long look before wrapping a towel around her. “Put this on before you catch a chill,” Kahlan says, handing her a shift. “I'm going to have our clothes washed, and a bath prepared for me after our meal.”

Later that evening they are lying in bed facing away from each other, but sleep doesn’t come easy. Cara’s coughing fits have subsided a bit but continue, and countless unspoken words hang in the air. “Here, drink some water,” Kahlan says, handing her a glass that sat on the night table. Once the glass is empty and back in its place, Kahlan turns around and curls her body around Cara’s, allowing her arm to drape over Cara’s waist. Cara categorizes it as comfort, certainly not snuggling, so she allows it.

It’s late into the night when, resting her chin on Cara’s shoulder, Kahlan asks a question that has been on her mind more and more of late. “What do you think it would be like if I weren’t a Confessor and you weren’t Mord’Sith?”

Cara thinks for a moment, allowing various scenarios to run through her mind then says gravelly, “Richard would have traded the Sword of Truth for a handful of magic beans months ago, and by now he would have walked into a tree and died from the skull fracture.”

Kahlan can’t help but chuckle, but then she inches closer to Cara, so much so that it’s impossible to tell where one body ends and the other begins. “That’s not what I ––”

“I know what you meant, Kahlan, and I think we both know the answer.” This time it’s Cara who turns around, and they are suddenly breathing each other’s breath. She thinks maybe it’s a weakness to say such a thing aloud but it’s late and she’s too tired for subterfuge. She’s looking at Kahlan in that way that makes Kahlan feel as if the entire world is hers for the taking. She feels powerful and strong and at this moment, Kahlan is certain that she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and Cara is a masterpiece, delicately crafted to add to her beauty by fitting perfectly in her arms.

Without thinking, she reaches down for Cara’s hands and places one atop each of her own breasts. Cara moans as she feels Kahlan’s body respond to her touch. This is a moment that can’t last so she pulls Kahlan into a deep and passionate kiss –– the memory of which she is certain will never fade. Kahlan wants more, so much more than this but darkness is quickly being replaced by the harsh light of day, and under the sun’s scrutiny she remembers that she’s the Mother Confessor of the Midlands and on a quest to save the world. Cara still fits perfectly in her arms but she too is part of this quest.

“Maybe after we save the world,” Kahlan breathes out, resting her forehead on Cara’s.

“Maybe,” Cara echoes.

After confirming that Cara’s fever has finally broken, they pack their belongings and leave the inn. By late afternoon they are reunited with the Seeker and the wizard, the four of them huddled around the fire listening to the wizard recount the details of his many youthful indiscretions.

All the while Richard watches the women, and the grin on his face fades to a sad smile of resignation. Saving the world doesn’t seem as important as it did just a few days ago.

Kahlan and Cara gaze at each other across the flickering flames for most of the evening. Saving the world seems more important than ever.


End file.
